


Special Interrogation

by gattan_cae



Series: "Hardcore" Kinktober 2020 [11]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Aftercare, Butt Plugs, Consensual Non-Consent, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, F/F, Genderbending, Genderswap, Ice Play, Interrogation, Kinktober 2020, Object Insertion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Roleplay, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Temperature Play, The Promare Didn't Leave (Promare), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gattan_cae/pseuds/gattan_cae
Summary: Captured Mad Burnish leader Lio Fotia finds herself at the hands of one of Freeze Force's most devious agents and herspecialinterrogation tactics, and discovers that even the most powerful fire can be overcome by creative insertions of ice.Kinktober day 11: roleplay
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Series: "Hardcore" Kinktober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949854
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Let's ice things up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800675) by [That_is_right](https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_is_right/pseuds/That_is_right). 



> this one goes out to that_is_right and cyrus. yall were so horny for this i just had to, and i had a lot of fun with this
> 
> edit: this is now kinktober day 11!

Lio finds herself in a fireproof room, cable-tied to a stainless steel chair. There’s only a single door and no windows. No other furniture. She tugs at the plastic cables securing her to the chair and they’re snug, but they’re plastic. Grinning at Freeze Force’s mistake, Lio calls up her fire, gloving her hands and arms in it up to the elbow, and urges it hotter, brighter, fiercer, until the plastic drips onto the floor and her arms are free. She spreads her legs defiantly, resting an elbow on a knee, and her chin on her fist.

That’s how the lone Freeze Force agent finds her—a _lone agent,_ what, do they not think Lio’s dangerous?—grinning like the cat that got the canary. The agent is a tall, muscular woman dressed in a grey jumpsuit, a black harness hanging around her hips, the shoulder straps loose and draped enticingly across her thighs. Lio licks her lips at the sight of her wife—at the sight of the _agent—_ and smirks at the agent’s attempt to tie her unruly fauxhawk into a bun even resembling professional.

“So I’m not bad enough to warrant a team?” Lio asks, leaning back in her chair and draping her arms over the back.

The agent looks at her sharply, something that almost looks like a smile barely restrained in her expression. “You’re bad enough for me, and that’s plenty,” she says. “Shit, I forgot.” The agent darts back out the door, leaving it ajar, and Lio marvels. How the hell did she get stuck with _this?_ This is going to be her easiest interrogation and escape ever. The agent comes back in with a cooler and kicks it so that it slides into the center of the room.

“I’m scared,” Lio intones, feeling anything but.

“You should be,” the agent says, flashing her teeth in a grim smile. She kneels down and opens the cooler: fog billows out of it like a Halloween prop and a rush of cold air hits Lio’s ankles. She raises her eyebrows.

“Flashy. Didn’t realize Freeze Force had a props department. Is this psyops? I’m impressed,” Lio chuckles. The agent pulls on thick black insulated gloves and reaches into the clouds of cold gases pouring out of the cooler. She holds up a chunk of crystal-clear ice that looks like glass. “Very pretty,” Lio coos mockingly.

“You won’t be saying that in a minute,” the agent threatens, standing up and approaching Lio with the ice. Lio’s all too practiced at this and floods her body with fire, raising her core temperature well over a hundred and twenty degrees, but not enough to make her skin glow—yet. The ice melts before it even gets within a foot of Lio’s skin, the cold water trickling down the agent’s arm. It’s warm before it drips off her bare elbow and sizzles into steam the second it hits Lio’s leg.

“Oops,” Lio says. “Guess I’m too hot for your ice.”

“We’ve got more,” the agent says blithely. She turns away, giving Lio an opportunity to stare at her sculpted back and shoulders under her sleeveless jumpsuit (that _can’t_ be regulation, but Lio won’t report her to the CO). The agent scribbles something on a clipboard, then reaches back down into the cooler. The chunk of ice she pulls out is smaller, cloudy, and billowing CO2. Dry ice. Lio keeps her temperature where it is, knowing that should be plenty enough. The only thing that would _really_ worry her is Foresight’s synthetic, parasitic ice that feeds off body heat, but Lio knows she’ll never have to face that again, especially not here, not with this _agent._ She knows the only ices she’ll come up against are natural ones that she’s tested and knows exactly how to protect herself against.

The agent approaches again, more quickly, because Lio can tell the dry ice is starting to bite her fingertips through the glove. “Let me help you with your hand, it looks cold,” Lio says, raising her hand up to the agent, loosing a small flare in her palm. “Warm you right up.”

“No, thanks,” the agent says, but her eyes linger on the dancing jewel-like flames, their unreal colors twinkling in the reflections on her blown pupils. Lio smiles smugly.

When the dry ice comes within six inches of Lio’s chest, she holds her breath and lets off a burst of extra heat. The ice explodes in a cloud of carbon dioxide that makes the agent cough, but there’s still a little chunk of the ice left in her hand and she presses it against Lio’s exposed neck. Lio hisses in irritation more than anything else—the ice’s cold bites only for a second before it sublimates out of existence and her Promare rushes to the spot to thaw it. Lio grins cockily at the agent.

“Running out of things that’ll work on me?” she asks.

“Not even,” the agent smiles hugely. She writes something else on the clipboard.

“I’m the most powerful Burnish in the world, there’s nothing you’ve got in that little cooler than can subdue my flames,” Lio brags.

“I think I’ve got something,” the agent fires back. She pulls a pair of tongs from her cargo pocket and reaches into the cooler, pulling out a flask. The moment it hits the humid air of the room, its surface rimes with hoarfrost. Galo— _the agent—_ gingerly unscrews the flask’s lid. More vapor pours out of the flask. That’s got to be liquid nitrogen. Lio takes a breath and readies herself, stoking her fire to new heights, calling the Promare right up to the surface so that she glows, eerie iridescent bands of teal and pink undulating beneath her skin. The room gets noticeably hotter and a sweat breaks out on the agent’s face. She sucks in a little breath that almost sounds like _“oh,”_ and her eyes get big and dark.

Wisps of steam curl off Lio’s skin before the agent even gets close with the liquid nitrogen. She can get hotter— _so_ much hotter—but not without breaking into a full flare and letting her flames loose, and they agreed for Galo’s safety that Lio would keep them contained. So Lio urges her Promare on harder, stoking them as hot as she can get while still confined inside her body. Convection currents lift her hair around her head and she glows even brighter, lighting up the whole room. A corona of superheated air clings to Lio like a second skin, her clothes dissolve into ash. Tiny tendrils of flame break free like miniature solar flares; the boundary of Lio’s skin between the Promare and the air becomes fuzzy.

Lio clings tight to her control, concentrating hard on riding that knife’s edge between too much and not enough. Any more and the Promare might slip her grasp and erupt into the room, scorching and destroying everything. Not enough and the nitrogen could gouge into her skin painfully and give her deep frostbite. She shivers with anticipation as the agent approaches, locking eyes with her. The agent nods shortly, and Lio holds up one glowing hand as if to receive the freezing liquid. The agent tips the flask and a trickle of liquid nitrogen, shrouded in sublimation, pours into Lio’s upturned palm.

The nitrogen evaporates instantly with an angry, hissing bang and a huge flash of light and steam. Instinctively, Lio’s Promare race to her hand to protect her against the freezing, her hand becoming incandescent with fire, the rest of her body cooling and dulling for lack of alien flame. Lio retracts her hand, the blinding glow fading down as her skin warms again, the Promare swarming with agitation under her skin, little dots of teal and pink and purple and magenta racing around furiously. She soothes them and disperses them again, her body returning to a soft and even glow, a triumphant smile on her face.

“Try not to look like you’re enjoying it so much,” the agent jokes. Lio just smiles wider.

“I burned up your liquid nitrogen. What’re you gonna do to me now?” she gloats.

“You’re not doing as well as you think,” the agent says darkly, picking up her clipboard again. “And now I know everything I need to. Those were just tests.”

“Tests?” Lio echoes, schooling her face into a look of uncertainty.

The agent leers. “I’m just the advance guard. Once I’m done with you, _then_ they’ll interrogate you, and you won’t be able to say no.”

“What’re you gonna do to me?” Lio asks, affecting a little bit of fear. The agent only looks smugger.

“I’m going to lower your core temperature so you can’t use your fire. It’ll be so busy trying to warm you up, you won’t be able to even light a match,” the agent says, her voice heavy with threat and lust.

“Core temperature…?” Lio mouths. The agent turns away, still holding the flask in the tongs, and pulls a long, thick, rounded metal rod out of the cooler.

“I had this in the dry ice but I guess it’s gonna have to be colder,” she says, carefully lowering it into the flask and replacing it in the cooler. Then she reaches in and procures another flask of liquid nitrogen, opens it, pulls what is _definitely_ a butt plug out of the cooler, and drops it into the other flask. The agent catches sight of Lio’s wide-eyed expression and laughs. “Oh, _yeah,_ firefly, it’s gonna be like _that.”_

“No,” Lio balks. The agent pulls another flask out of the cooler and unscrews it, then takes a deep draught of whatever’s inside. She sets the flask down and takes three big strides over to Lio, grabbing her jaw in one powerful hand and pressing their lips together forcefully. She only manages to pull back on the burning heat under the skin of her jaw and mouth at the last second to avoid burning the agent. Lio recoils, trying to pull her head away, but the agent is too strong and squeezes her jaw even tighter until Lio’s forced to open her mouth from the pressure. The agent sticks her cold tongue in immediately, invading and claiming Lio’s mouth, then presses two ice cubes in. Lio tries to spit them back into the agent’s mouth, but the agent pulls away and holds Lio’s mouth shut, stroking her throat harshly to force her to swallow. Lio does resentfully, glaring daggers at her captor. The ice melts before it even gets to her stomach, but it’s still cold and heavy inside her. As petty revenge, Lio stokes her core fire to evaporate the water, then burps it up in the agent’s face.

“Gross, but impressive,” the agent says, then shrugs. “Guess I get to do it again!” She retrieves her water and takes another swig, then kisses the ice into Lio’s mouth again. This time, Lio evaporates the ice in her mouth and huffs the vapor into Galo’s lungs, making her stagger back and gasp. Lio gives a victorious little “hah” but her victory doesn’t last long. The agent comes in for another kiss, this time without the ice, gripping Lio firmly by the back of the head and leaning in. It’s deep, searching, familiar, and almost _romantic_ and instinctively, Lio starts to melt into the feeling of her wife’s mouth, nearly forgetting where they are and what they’re supposed to be doing.

When the agent pulls away, Lio is left a little dizzy and feeling distinctly less defiant than she had earlier. She struggles to call up her fires again, to harden herself against whatever attack is coming, but the agent is kneeling in front of her, holding Lio’s hands in her lap, looking at her so softly that it steals the breath out of Lio’s throat.

“C’mon, don’t break character,” Lio says and Galo pouts, so she leans in to kiss her again.

“Just wanna remind you I love you,” Galo murmurs against Lio’s lips. Lio’s stomach flips. “What’s your safeword?”

“Paradise,” Lio says. Galo gives her another kiss and pulls away with a smack.

“You’ve fallen right into my trap and let your guard down!” Galo shouts suddenly, startling Lio. By the time she realizes what the agent means, Lio finds her wrists in ice cuffs.

“No!” she cries, superheating her body again to try to burn the ice off, but it won’t budge. Her hands are _so_ cold. “Fuck!”

“I tried to be nice to you,” the agent says, standing and looking down on Lio with an expression of fake pity. “But you’re forcing me.”

“I’m not!” Lio cries.

“Stand up and bend over, put your hands on the chair,” the agent says. “Or I’ll make you.”

The very real threat of further ice cuffs—or an ice collar—hangs in the air, so stiffly, filled with anger and against her will, Lio stands from the chair with as much dignity as she can muster, and bends over, bracing her numb hands against the back of the chair. Her body burns and glows with anger, power, and humiliation. She can feel the agent’s eyes on her exposed ass and pussy, her gaze invasive. Lio turns and glowers over her shoulder, trying her best to look menacing in such a vulnerable position. The agent chuckles and returns to the cooler, fishing out both nitrogen flasks.

“This is gonna be a little cold,” she mutters with dark humor; Lio can’t see what she’s pulled out of the flask. She braces herself, hanging her head between her stretched shoulders, and when the first burning touch of frozen steel comes against her tight, sensitive ass, she grits her teeth. The agent doesn’t lube her—they know from experience lube doesn’t work when Lio is this hot—and Lio screams through clenched teeth as the agent pushes the plug all the way inside. Her Promare rush to surround it, to protect her delicate insides from the dangerous cold, to warm it and to neutralize it.

Lio’s entire world narrows down to the heavy, burning, freezing sensations of the plug in her ass and she fights to breathe evenly, her glow fluctuating with each breath. Behind her, the agent hums. Lio hears the clink of metal, the rustle of fabric.

“I think we need a little more. You still look a little warm,” the agent says. Lio flinches as two fingers part her lips and she screams openly when the agent stuffs the frozen steel dildo inside her pussy. She gasps against the sudden onslaught of pain—having two things _so cold_ inside her is almost too much—and almost safewords, but Lio’s limits exist only to be pushed and instead she grits her teeth and fights for breath and cries.

The agent pulls the dildo out and shoves it in deep again and again; Lio can feel it bashing against her cervix, rubbing against the plug in her ass through the thin membrane of pain and fire that separates them. She concentrates all her fire between her legs, desperately trying to heat the objects forced inside her. They’re so fucking cold and the steel just keeps endlessly sucking in all the heat she feeds it; it refuses to warm, to relent. The agent keeps fucking her slowly and forcefully, and Lio realizes she’s really being fucked; there are hands on her hips that she hadn’t even noticed initially. One particularly deep thrust and the agent grinds her hips up and forward, pulling a sob out of Lio.

“I’m just doing my job, you can end this by putting your fire away,” the agent grits out. Lio groans incoherently in response, still fighting the cold and the violation of both her holes. Her hands went numb a long time ago from the cuffs and the lack of fire to protect her wrists, but she can feel pain creeping up her arms from how hard she’s gripping the back of the chair. Galo fucks her thoroughly and relentlessly, the metal legs of the chair screaming on the concrete, and Lio can feel her fire waning; she can’t keep it up, her strength is draining, dragged out of her with every slide of the metal dildo through her pussy. There’s no room left in her mind to control the dangerous alien fire when her entire existence is overwhelmed by cold and heat and penetration and overstimulation.

Finally, the agent pulls out, leaving Lio’s pussy raw and cold and gaping. Then she yanks the plug out of Lio’s ass and Lio’s left trembling, barely braced on the chair, concentrating entirely on breathing and remaining upright. The slide of the thermometer into her used ass barely registers, yet somehow she still has enough left in her to feel embarrassed when it beeps and Galo pulls it out.

“96,” the agent says. “A little cool. You should be plenty ready for interrogation now. Have a seat, Fotia.”

Lio twists her hips and collapses, shaking onto the chair, her head hung low. Sitting _hurts._ She breathes shakily and the agent pushes the cooler out of the room. Laboriously, Lio takes stock of her body. She’s chilled to the bone and the shivering is setting in, her body wracked with violent tremors, and she’s not glowing anymore. She doesn’t feel nearly strong enough to command the Promare right now, and they’re exhausted too. Her reserves of fire are so low, she really doesn’t think she could light a match right now.

The agent enters the room again and a fluffy, warmed blanket settles over Lio’s shoulders. Galo squats down in front of her, her hair let down out of its bun and hanging in her face again. “How’re you doing, firefly?” she asks softly.

“Hhh,” Lio sighs, her teeth chattering. Galo wraps the blanket tightly around her and leaves the room again. She comes back with something else warm and fluffy—socks. She has socks. She puts them on Lio’s pale and bloodless feet, then she pulls a special tool—somewhere between a can opener and a key, one that Lio’s all too familiar with—and disables the ice cuffs. They clatter to the floor and Galo takes Lio’s hands in her own big, hot hands and rubs feeling back into her fingers.

“Your nose is running, baby,” Galo observes. Lio shivers in response. Her nose drips. Galo pulls something else warm and soft over Lio’s lower half—sweatpants? Yeah, sweatpants—and tucks the blanket into the pants. Then she gingerly lifts Lio out of the chair. Lio folds into her wife’s chest, tucking her dishevelled head underneath Galo’s chin, her shivering starting to lessen in severity. They exit the little concrete storage room in their unfinished basement and Galo carries her back upstairs.

“You want a bath? Takeout?” Galo asks, pressing a kiss to Lio’s forehead.

“Mm,” Lio mumbles, hoping Galo correctly interprets it as an affirmative. Time is incredibly slippery and Lio gets pulled back into the nebulous, floating sensation inside her body as Galo sets her down on their bed. Moments—minutes?—Galo picks Lio up again and Lio lifts her head at the feeling of hot, humid air. The bath is drawn, the windows and mirror fogged with steam. It smells like lavender and rosemary. Galo sets Lio on the edge of the tub and helps her undress, supports her carefully as she sinks down into the hot water with a grateful groan.

Galo settles at the edge of the tub, resting her face on her folded forearms, looking at Lio like she hung the stars in the sky even though Lio still feels a scattered, taken-apart mess. “Where d’you want food from?” she asks.

Lio sinks a little lower in the water until her nose is just above the steaming surface. She blows bubbles, then tips her head back enough to speak. “Ramen?”

“Ramen it is,” Galo agrees with a smile. Lio closes her eyes and lounges in the water, marvelling at how her arms float so easily, then she realizes Galo must’ve put Epsom salts in the water along with the oil. She looks at her wife out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey,” she says softly, her voice a little raspy. “I love you.”

Galo looks up from the soft blue glow of her phone and smiles beatifically. “I love you, too, Lio. You’re amazing.”

Lio blinks slowly, contentedly, like a cat, and Galo understands. She lounges in the bath a while, sitting in companionable silence with Galo, and when the water starts to register as cool to her, Lio knows her core’s rebounded from the cold shock. She gets out and dries off, standing huddled in the plush, oversize bath towel, and just smiles. The endorphins are starting to hit. She feels more thoroughly wrung-out than if she’d been edged and come multiple times.

When they’re cuddled together in bed under the covers slurping down scalding-hot ramen and watching Netflix, Lio shivers delightfully and snuggles up closer to her wife, the heat of her body and fire warming Galo with love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is now day 11 of kinktober, roleplay! while this chapter doesn't have any real meat to it, it _is_ a teaser for day 13 ;)

It’s only several days later that Galo says something that makes Lio short-circuit, her second mug of coffee that morning frozen halfway to her lips. Galo laughs, throwing her head back, her wild bedhead falling out of her eyes. “Your _face,”_ she hoots. “You’re _so red,_ firefly!”

Lio inhales through her nose and reboots her brain, aware of how warm her cheeks are as she completes her intended sip of coffee. She stiffly does not acknowledge Galo’s comment, caught in a catch-22 where both a response and a lack of one are incriminating, so she might as well not give Galo more ammunition. Across the corner of the table, Galo leans forward on her elbows and grins obnoxiously and Lio hates how _cute_ she looks as she’s actively antagonizing her.

“You do-o-o,” Galo sing-songs. Lio hides her face in her mug again.

“I don’t recall the original comment,” Lio says loftily, finally, making a pathetic bid to regain her footing.

Galo snorts. “I said, ‘you really liked having your temperature taken the other day, didn’t you?’”

Lio should’ve been prepared, but hearing it a second time is no better and her brain trips and falls spectacularly into the gutter, her face burning, and she crosses her legs. Galo laughs again.

“You can’t hide it, Lio. Your face is starting to glow.”

“Fuck,” Lio hisses, then gives up and lays her head down on the table. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Galo echoes, settling her head down next to Lio’s, still wearing that shit-eating grin, her eyes bright and piercing.

“Okay,” Lio confirms. Galo raises an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Galo says indulgently, chuckling.

Lio grumbles with embarrassment and frustration. “Yes, okay? You got me.”

“You got a kink for that and you didn’t even know it,” Galo marvels.

“It’s embarrassing,” Lio whines, turning her head and smushing her nose onto the table.

“It’s turning you on like crazy is what it is,” Galo observes, and Lio hates suddenly how she feels stripped naked and _seen_ by those words, curses her wife’s cutting honesty sometimes. “Do you want me to do it again?”

Lio forces out a harsh, measured breath in response, unable to summon words. She can _hear_ Galo smiling on the other side of her privacy curtain of hair.

“Do you want me to bend you over and take your temperature like a baby?” Galo asks, just to twist the knife, and Lio makes a strangled involuntary groan. “Mm-hm, s’what I thought,” Galo says smugly. Lio feels the table shake as Galo pushes her chair back, then Galo pats her soothingly on the back. It’s both a promise and a threat, and Lio knows instantly that whatever Galo’s planning, she’s _fucked._


End file.
